


After Work

by Anonymous



Category: RoadTrip (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28664649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Couldn't think of a good title, or summary for that matter, but we roll with it.
Relationships: Rye Beaumont/Andy Fowler
Kudos: 1
Collections: anonymous





	After Work

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't think of a good title, or summary for that matter, but we roll with it.

"Andy!" Rye's voice sang out from the general vicinity of the front door; Andy could hear his boots stomping against the rug in an attempt to keep from tracking in the snow that was piling up in almost mind-boggling amounts outside.

"Shoes stay in the foyer!" Andy called back by way of greeting, and he heard Rye sigh, and two more thumps that signified his husband toeing off his boots. Rye didn't waste any time walking up the hallways to the kitchen, red nosed from the harsh wind whipping around the house, his dark unruly hair in all different directions. He grinned wide at Andy, coming up behind him as Andy turned back towards the counter.

"What's for dinner?" Rye said quietly as he wrapped his arms around Andy's waist, leaning his chin against Andy's shoulder. "Here's where you answer 'steak and mashed potatoes, Rye darling'."

Andy chuckled quietly, mixing the batter in the glass bowl before him with the focus of a scientist in a laboratory. "Breakfast, actually," Andy answered, moving to check the heat on the frying pan, and Rye moving with him like a shadow. "Pancakes and bacon."

Rye groaned, pushing his face into Andy's neck. Andy squealed at Rye's cold nose, squirming towards the counter. "Again? Didn't we have that two nights ago?"

Andy didn't have to see Rye's face to know that he's pouting.

"Don't pretend like you don't love my pancakes," Andy said primly, carefully pouring a dollop of batter into the frying pan. "Go be a good boy and get the plates and forks." He squirmed again, for different reasons, as Rye moved his mouth against Andy's neck, drawing fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Andy," he said, drawing the name out in a low voice. Andy squirmed again, it really wasn't fair. "You know I love your pancakes, but not three times in one week." He's still running fingers through hair, and Andy's pretending he's not.

"Well, if someone would come grocery shopping with me, maybe we'd have more to eat for dinner, you know I don't like to go alone." And maybe Andy got a little pouty here as well, but really, he hated going shopping by himself, it made it feel as if it took forever.

"And you know I don't like going grocery shopping at all, you take a million years and won't let me get chocolate chip pop tarts," Rye said. "Why don't you ask Brooklyn to go with you? He's home during the day too."

Andy laughed, flipping over the pancake and pouring another beside it. "Ask Brook to go with me? Can you picture him in a grocery store? It's a good thing Mikey is rich and can afford to hire people to shop for them, otherwise those two would starve."

Rye sighed, and gently tugged Andy's hips backwards and towards him, and Andy reluctantly turned around, resting his back against the counter. "Alright, alright, I will go shopping with you. But please, no asparagus? And can I please get some chocolate chip pop tarts?"

The force of Rye's pout was too much for Andy to handle, and he nods, rolling his eyes and smiling against his will.

"I suppose I will allow those vile things into this house," he said, and Rye grinned and put an arm around his waist, pulling him in close. He nuzzled his face into Andy's neck again, but this time the lips touched down first, moving up skin toward jaw. Andy shuddered, humming and fisting his hands in the back of Rye's shirt. Rye's tongue made a wet path up the column of Andy's throat, and Andy couldn't keep quiet, he never could.

"Rye," he murmured, and tilted his head back. His nose caught whiff of a smell, something acrid and....smoky. His eyes snapped open. "Rye! The pancakes!"


End file.
